


Heroes

by bbystarr



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M, Superheroes, Superpowers, Supervillains, X-Men vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11023062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbystarr/pseuds/bbystarr
Summary: • we can be heroes, just for one day •George Harrison finds himself in the extraordinary position of being able to rule the world. Richard Starkey just wants to hold a boy's hand and look at some flowers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lmao
> 
> this is my first fic and it's going to be awful but why not give it a shot I guess
> 
> Basically this whole fic has low key x-men vibes lol
> 
> Just a lil note, Ringo has cute ass curlyish hair for this fic because it makes him seem twice as pure 
> 
> And I guess to know what the fuck else is going on, y'all are gonna have to read it 
> 
> Please do drop a comment if you like it or to give me any constructive criticism or just anything at all! Enjoy this shitty fic xx

"Are you sure he's one of us?"

George piped up, not convinced in the least. He would've scoffed out loud if it weren't for the dead serious looks on everyone's faces. Even the ones his age seemed to be fully engrossed instead of tossing about their carefree attitude. George just thought that was because it had been so long since someone new was found. The meeting room was large yet dim and all eyes were on the somewhat fuzzy image displayed on the screen, on the somewhat fuzzy picture of the boy with the loose curls in his hair sitting beside the bed of what George thought looked like marigolds.

"Yeah, for sure." The man at the end of the long table replied. "And we need to get him."

• • •

Richard Starkey leant back against the tree, sticking one hand into the sunlight to watch it glint and shimmer off his rings. The day was warm, with people walking around sporting t-shirts or shorts or the occasional sleeveless top however Richard still found himself still in the dark red shirt he always found himself in, though this time he hadn't bothered to even messily tuck his shirt in. He didn't feel warm at all. In fact, he often felt a gentle shiver running through his body though it wasn't anything unusual. Not since a few months ago.

Richard knew he wasn't doing anything to help himself in the long run, he wasn't sure when he was going to stop being so damn upset but right then, under the trees and beside the marigolds, he felt at peace. He felt calm enough to allow himself to breathe without hearing some kind of self deprecating comment manifesting itself in sometimes as simple as the faint footsteps of the passersby. Every little thing usually just reminded him of his plummeting self esteem but there was just something about the hidden corner of the park that made Richard feel like his life was worth the effort. Or perhaps it was the growing mystery as to how the marigolds grew back so quickly after he picked some every Sunday.

Sunday.

Just thinking about that day of the week alone was enough to make Richard wince, let alone being in such a wretched day of the week. Staring into the deep blueness above almost made Richard forget that it was indeed a Sunday sky he was staring at and all of a sudden, he couldn't stomach sitting in the park anymore. He knew where he needed to be. With a soft sigh, Richard knelt up on his knees, dismissing the grass stains that would worsen the state of his trousers (they'd always had some kind of grass mark or grains of pollen on them). Richard carefully pulled a few marigolds out of the ground, feeling himself slip back into his routine. It was only a short walk from where he was to the graveyard.

The flowers dangled between his fingers almost carelessly but Richard had never dropped a single flower in his life and as odd as that may sound, it was significant because Richard was renowned for his butterfingers. As he walked, Richard occasionally caught glimpses of other people looks of pity, they knew where he was off to as well, they'd seen him go often enough. Rain or shine, on the Sunday streets of Liverpool, Richard would be heading towards the graveyard. To Richard, the time in between leaving the park and arriving at the gates of the graveyard didn't exist at all. He never let the full force of his thoughts hit him until he reached there.

Making his way to the grave he needed to get to was like second nature. At first, when he started visiting the graveyard, he'd come every day, and leave as late as possible but with a little help from his friends, he'd cut the visiting down to just Sunday. It wasn't as though Richard looked forward to going, it was just that he felt overwhelmingly lost anywhere besides the in front of that particular gravestone (or the hidden corner of the park, for that matter). He gently brushed his fingers atop the cold surfaces of the gravestones as he walked by. He didn't seem to register what he was touching, not until he'd finally reached his destination.

There she was: his mother. It was still painfully strange to Richard how he could see the words 'Elsie Starkey' engraved into stone, as if she was just another person, just another death.

"Hi mum." Richard mumbled, hesitating a moment before placing down the marigolds by the headstone. For some reason or another, his mother's grave seemed to be teeming with natural life that seemed strangely well kept (despite Richard not doing a single thing to it aside from bringing flowers every week) while some other old graves were covered with cracked grainy soil. Richard just believed it was his dear mother living on in the flowers and the greenery, just for him. He'd never payed much attention to the rusting leaves or bushes before but after Elsie passed away, he felt so drawn to it.

"I haven't been doing well, mum." Richard confessed in a soft tone, running a hand through his hair that he hadn't combed for weeks. "I miss you loads still. Loads and loads."

Richard paused, almost as if he was expecting a reply. Or maybe even for her to return momentarily and to hug him and tell him that he was still her precious little boy. Richard missed complaining that he was 18 and not a little boy anymore. But there standing in front of his mother's grave, he sure felt like one.

"I've been living with Paul. He said a change of environment would be good for me and that sort of lark, y'know?"

Silence.

"I'm not crying this time mum, see? I'm not-" Just as Richard said that, he felt tears spring to his eyes. Not again, he thought. He bowed his head ever so slightly and shut his eyes, willing the tears to go away. He'd cried enough. He'd cried more than enough.

"Ritchie?" A familiar voice made Richard's eyes snap open. "God, I knew I'd find you here."

"I'm always here on Sunday." Richard muttered as he turned his head, catching a glimpse of Paul manoeuvring through the maze of graves towards him.

"You just took off this morning. Left your cereal half eaten. Don't worry though, I ate it for you." Paul offered a lopsided smile in an attempt to lighten the mood, though he hooked his arm around Richard's shoulders in half hug to wordlessly show his support. Richard said nothing in reply and instead turned to properly hug Paul. The soft sounds of birds chirping filled the air and Paul let his smile drop as he stared over Richard's shoulder at the grave of his friend's mother. Eventually Richard took a step back, and managed a slight smile back to Paul. "You okay?"

"I dunno," Richard shrugged, "I will be though. Eventually."

Paul didn't think Richard sounded too convincing but he didn't push it. He wasn't bawling his eyes out like any other time Paul had found him either so that was progress. He was still fragile. 'Baby steps, though,' Paul thought, 'Baby steps'.

"That's my Ritchie." Paul said fondly and ruffled his friend's hair, allowing a moment of silence by Elsie's grave.


	2. Chapter 2

George leaned back in his leather chair, one foot up on the edge of the seat. He idly watched the rush of ideas come out of people's mouths, all elaborate ways to get the boy. Not that George actually cared, he didn't see why they needed someone new anyway. Unfortunately for him, nobody else cared much what he thought either.

"Come on, it's obvious," John looked wicked with his Cheshire Cat grin. "He's a teenage boy, just throw a pretty girl at him for a while and we'll 'ave him no problem."

"I volunteer." Mo leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. She fluttered her eyelashes and swept her long hair off her shoulders as gracefully as she could. George had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"He said pretty girl, Mo." Pete sneered, getting a kick out of the rise he got from his antics.

"Hey hey, cool it." John interfered though George could tell he wanted to see Pete's teasing go on for longer. He always had that cheeky glint in his eye, the kind only found in people who were searching for trouble. But that was John all right: trouble. And George supposed that was why he found himself here.

"Well I vote that I go and seduce him." Mo said decidedly.

"Yeah, y'know, why not. Maybe Mo can finally stop lusting after me now." Pete smirked, ignoring the 'Sod off' that came from Mo.

"Marvellous." John chirped, casting a glance at George. "What do you think George?"

George stared at all their expectant faces for a moment, sighing deeply.

"First of all, I fucking hate all of you-"  
• • •

"See? Isn't it nice being outside?" Paul gestured grandly at the view, a broad grin on his face. He'd brought Richard to the roof of the apartment in another one of his attempts to cheer Richard up or at least get him out of his room on a day that wasn't Sunday. "The birds are chirping, the sun in shining, isn't it lovely?" Paul hooked an arm around Richard's shoulders, hoping his positivity would spread.

But Richard was having none of it.

He shrugged Paul's arm off his shoulders and walked near to the edge of the building, sitting down on the concrete floor and blankly stared at the view. He knew Paul was only trying to help but it just didn't seem to be working. What he needed was time, time to be sad about it (though Paul's argument was that he'd been devastatingly upset for too long). Hearing Paul sigh and come to sit down beside him, Richard prepared himself for another one of Paul's heart-to-hearts.

"Look, Ritchie, I know this is hard for you. I get it." He started softly, resting a hand on Richard's shoulder and breathing a gentle sigh of relief when he didn't flinch away. "But you can't stay like this forever. There comes a time when you have to move on. Not all at once, but you have to let good things happen to you sometimes instead of shutting them out. Elsie would've wanted it this way."

Richard remained silent, letting Paul's words rattle around his head. Glancing absently at the sky, Richard supposed he could maybe try, just for Paul's sake, to make an effort to not sulk all day. Richard nodded slightly and scooted closer to Paul, needing to something to lean on (both physically and metaphorically).

"Alright, Paulie. I'll try." Richard mumbled, sticking out his legs in front of him. "I do like the sun." He admitted.

"I know ya do." Paul's bubbly smile returned to his face. "Hey, here's an idea. How about we have a little picnic up here, with strawberries and everythin'?"

Richard felt a small smile spread across his lips. "Y'know what, that sounds quite nice."

Paul grinned, getting to his feet and Richard heard him muttering 'Brilliant' before dashing off down to the apartment to presumably gather whatever he needed for the picnic.

And so Richard was left alone on the rooftop.

He lay back, the light shining on his face and he shut his eyes. If anywhere could compete with his special place in the park, it would surely be the roof. Not that it was very glamorous or even teeming with the plant life that Richard enjoyed so much (although there were a few flowers poking through some cracks), it was just peaceful. Few people ever came up and on rare sunny days, Richard loved to bask in the light on his own-with the exception of Paul, of course. He once joked that he felt like a plant photosynthesising, the sun's rays fuelling him. He heard the door to the rooftop creak open and kept his eyes closed, a slight smile on his face.

"What d'you get, Paul?" he asked quietly.

"Who's Paul?" A voice giggled.

Richard furrowed his eyebrows at the unfamiliar voice, opening his eyes and leaned up on his elbows. He was met with the sight of a short girl with dark hair and a coy smile.

"Oh. Um..." Richard felt his face flush in shyness and sat up properly, beginning to feel the relaxed environment of the rooftop slipping away.

"It's so nice out here isn't it?" The girl's smile seemed to grow and Richard tried his best to avoid eye contact, timid with unfamiliar people in his presence. He nodded, stealing a quick glance at her before focusing his attention on a weed growing out of a small crack in the concrete. She looked so dainty yet somewhat intimidating at the same time. It was as if the air got a little bit colder around her. Noticing that her remark had no reply, the girl continued to try and strike up a conversation.

"My name's Mo. I just moved into an apartment here." Richard didn't look at her but he felt the gentle press of her shoulder against his. Richard's blush deepened which gave him more of a reason not to look at her. "What's your name?"

"Um, uh, Richard." He brought up a hand to the back of his neck, nervously scratching it.

"Richard, hm? That's a lovely name." Mo drawled, expecting Richard to offer some kind of response. Noticing his growing blush, Mo smirked. At the feel of cold breath against his warm cheek, Richard flinched and his gaze snapped up to Mo in surprise. "Say, you're cute."

Richard's eyes widened and he wanted to move away but somehow he felt himself unable to move, paralysed under her stare.

"And you have the most adorable blue eyes..." Mo murmured in her silky voice and Richard felt himself begin to panic as her hand rested on his shoulder, fiddling with the fabric. He felt discomfort settle into his skin, making him squirm as she started to lean in closer, and closer, and-

"Ritchie?"

Richard suddenly jerked beck at the harsh sound of the door slamming open, revealing Paul barely managing to stand with a huge basket in his arms and a small pot of flowers on top of it, almost obscuring his face.

A silence briefly fell over the three, Richard's face redder than ever, yet Mo's reaction seemed to be limited to mild surprise indicated by a raise of her eyebrows. The silence was broken by Paul laughing, fucking laughing, and Richard didn't see what was so damn funny.

"Oh man, Rich, are you going straight on me now?" Paul hooted, as if the sight in front of him was the most hilarious scene to ever unfold. He managed to put down the picnic basket to clap his hands in that way that people did when they were truly laughing their ass off.

"Sorry, what?" Mo glanced from Richard to Paul, looking increasingly lost.

"Oh honey," Paul managed to say in between his laughter. "Richard doesn't swing your way."

Richard felt as if his cheeks were going to burn off. He truly felt as though the fires of hell were contained in his cheeks and at any moment he was going to spontaneously combust.

"But-" Mo started, though it wasn't exactly easy to finish a sentence with Paul McCartney's wild laughter in the background and Richard was pissed because he didn't think it was that funny. "You-" She tried again.

Richard, who felt just about ready to throw himself off the roof, just shrugged awkwardly at Mo, taking a shaky breath.

"Sorry love," Paul managed to dwindle his laughter down to a giggle, nodding his head to the door. "Off you go then. He doesn't like strangers."

Mo awkwardly got to her feet, her confused face transforming into a pissed off look as she stormed past Paul, not looking back at Richard.

"Paul-"

"Sorry mate, that was just too funny." Paul shook his head as he sat down by Richard, taking the pot of flowers off the basket before he took the food out. "I know you also love your plants, ya pansy."

Despite everything, Richard felt himself smile and carefully touched a petal of the flower Paul had brought up.

"Thanks." Richard said, for the flowers, for getting rid of the girl that had made him so uncomfortable, for making him smile.

"Don't mention it." Paul said softly, nudging Richard in a playful manner. "Now pass the strawberries, would ya?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yiKe lol this is awful but I'd really appreciate it if you voted or left a comment saying what you think ! Thanks for reading anyway


	3. Chapter 3

The large room in the heart of the facility was only filled by the long table with a huge screen positioned at the end of it, and a few teenagers sitting (or in John's case, standing) on the fancy leather chairs. Three boys were scattered around, each dying of boredom as they waited for Mo to return.

Pete was sat near John, one hand outstretched, palm up, towards George who sat opposite. Small flames erupted from Pete's palm, something that would have completely astounded George a year ago. Yet he'd grown accustomed to the strange and other worldly traits that everyone there seemed to possess and had grown to use his own abilities comfortably. Staring at the flames, George attempted to form a weak force field around it, succeeding for a few moments before letting the translucent shimmering barrier fall away. John was preoccupied with manipulating the chair he was stood upon under the strength of his mind, spinning himself round in circles, laughs escaping him from time to time. Instead of scolding him, George simply laughed along with him. It was easy for the two other boys to forget that George was merely seventeen-a year younger than them both-and though the age gap didn't seem like much, it showed. It showed in his boyish charm: immaturity, heavy mood swings and all.

The air of lingering anticipation was broken with the sound of the door creaking open. Mo was stood in the doorway, looking peeved, and ready to punch someone but that was hardly what anyone was focusing on. Because she had turned up empty handed, boy-less, alone. John, as always, was the first to open his mouth but this time, Mo wasn't having any of it.

"Guys, sending me was completely useless-"

"Well I could've told you that-" George piped up cheekily.

"Shut it, Harrison. He's a-"

"Didn't I warn you this would happen? Didn't I?"

"God, shut up, would you?" Mo snapped, shutting the door hard enough that it made even George flinch and he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut this time if he didn't want to end up with a black eye. Mo seemed cute but there was no denying that she could be lethal. "The kid's a...a queer." Her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes wide and intently staring at the others.

"Say it even quieter, would ya?" John muttered sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, dropping down to sit properly on his chair, legs carelessly splayed out. "Good lord, he's a gay! He's a homosexual!" He snickered, waving his hands for dramatic effect.

"Be serious for just one moment, John." Mo snapped to which John responded by pulling silly faces at her. She sighed sharply and shifted her attention to Pete instead. "Some friend of his came and laughed at me for trying to get with him. Bastard laughed at me! Said that 'Richard' didn't swing my way!"

"Damn, how are we gonna get him now?" Pete huffed, trying his best to ignore the ongoing faces John was pulling but his temper was short and he lashed his foot out to kick John's leg underneath the table.

"Ow." John scrunched up his face, pulling his legs up onto the chair with him. "Well...we could just do the same thing but with a bloke?"

The four exchanged unreadable glances.

"Not it!" Pete and John cried in unison.

"What? No!" George sat up, wondering how he could have missed the apparent telepathic memo of how this was going to go down. "Not it, not it!"

"Too little, too late, Georgie boy." Pete grinned almost maliciously and George would've punched his smug little face if he wasn't currently dealing with the current situation. The last thing George wanted to do was seduce some guy that he didn't even want anyway.

"Oh come on, George. Y'can really turn the charm on when you want to." John waved his finger at George, finally settling into his chair and put his feet up on the table. With John's restlessness, he wouldn't be surprised if he leapt up to skip over the table to George.

"No, I can't!" George argued but he knew full well that John had seen him in action. Out of all of them, he of all people knew that shy and quiet baby George wasn't such a shy and quiet baby after all-he'd had his fair share of girls.

"But Georgie," John fluttered his eyelashes, raising his pitch to mimic a girl and lifted the back of his hand to his forehead. "When you kissed me, I felt like the only girl in the world!"

"Stop it!" George protested, feeling warmth spread across his cheeks and flushing a deep red. "I'm not gay!"

"Does it matter?" Mo chimed in and raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Your job ends when you get him here."

"Yeah, and we'll all come with you. Right guys?" John offered, grinning broadly. Almost instantly, Mo and Pete began to reel off excuses, barely audible over one another. "No? Sod off then, I'll come."

"I'd rather you didn't, thanks." George sunk back in his chair defeatedly, running his hand through his dark mop of hair. Before John could respond, George vanished, quite literally.

"Damn." John sighed. "Of course Harrison had to teleport away."

George suddenly felt the softness of his bed against his back instead of the hard leather and breathed a sigh of relief. He stared blankly at the ceiling, thinking over what he had been tasked to do. He was supposed to be ruling the world by now, that's what they promised him. They said he was special, that he was gifted like no other, that he would be happier with them and with people like him. George didn't know if he was happier. But he didn't let that show. It was certainly different, not having to hide his abilities and he supposed that was quite freeing. The world wasn't ready for people like him, like John and Pete and Mo. They would fear them, and everything that they could do. However, George supposed that was exactly why they needed to seize control of it all. He felt it, just out of his reach but they were getting there. George knew and felt with every fibre of his being that he was destined for more than just a secret contained in a backyard, watching the world unknowingly pass by such an astounding anomaly.

"Jesus," he muttered, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. "Fuck." He added, knowing he'd just have to stop his whining and woo that Richard kid right into the their grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ?? im always insecure about my writing lol but please comment, even if it is constructive criticism!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted 2 chapters at the same time but it's cause I'm writing it on wattpad and keep forgetting to post here as well oOps

The weight of another Sunday pressed down on Richard's shoulders and this time, he somehow felt even worse. The sky was swamped with clouds, forbidding any sunlight to filter through and Richard scowled at the feeling of a slight chill settling into his skin. Still, the weather didn't stop Richard from heading to the park to pick up those marigolds. He was grateful that Paul had decided to let him wander around on his own first before meeting up at the graveyard. Richard could tell that Paul was reluctant to do so, but he had the advantage of large, pleading, melancholic eyes that seemed to work wonderfully against his friend. He knew that Paul was only trying to look out for him but it was a little tiring, to say the least, having Paul follow him everywhere he went like a watchdog.

Richard sauntered into the park, seeing only a few other people around but they were all were too absorbed in their own business to notice him heading over to the willow tree by the pond. Still, he kept his head down and footsteps light to make himself as invisible as possible. Slipping past the dangling branches, Richard made it to the wall behind them and ducked through the hole in it that led to his special place and where the best marigolds grew. As he brushed a leaf off his shoulder, Richard looked up and froze.

Under the tree, under his tree, stood a boy.

Richard assumed he had a cigarette as smoke ascended past his figure, the colour mixing with that of the pallid sky that day. Only his dark, messy mop of hair was visible, as his back was turned to Richard. His leather jacket seemed to hang off his tall and skinny frame, already introducing a sense of intimidation. By his feet grew the marigolds, all there and looking as healthy as ever, but Richard was far more cautious about how he was going to get them.

Maybe I could wait outside for a bit, Richard thought, but Paul would get worried if I turned up late. Transfixed by the boy, Richard mindlessly took a step back, making the grass crunch under his heavy footed step. The swift turn of the boy's head to look over his shoulder made Richard gasp in surprise, barely able to look away. His heart thudded against this chest, unsure of what to make of the boy or even what to say. Half of the boy's face was now visible and there was indeed a cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark eyes met with Richard's and were a stark contrast to his pale skin. Richard thought the way his soft hair fell against his defined cheekbones was almost artful and he found himself being unable to break eye contact despite feeling an anxious flutter transpire within him.

"Hullo." The boy muttered, his Liverpudlian accent thick and the movement of his lips released more smoke into the air. A gentle tip of the head acted as an invitation for Richard to come forward and stand beside him. But Richard felt uneasy about whether he should move or not, which earned a quirked eyebrow from the boy. "I don't bite, y'know." He said, taking the cigarette from his lips with a gracefulness Richard hadn't witnessed in a long time. A slow smirk spread across the boy's lips. "Not unless you want me to, that is."

Richard felt a raging blush spread rapidly across his cheeks and he tore his gaze away from the boy with a small but nervous laugh. He glanced briefly at the ground and saw his feet moving towards the boy before he really knew what he was doing. The next time he looked up, the boy's face was in full view and far closer than before.

"I was just-" Richard cleared his throat, feeling intimidated by not only the height difference, but also the determination the boy seemed to have with keeping eye contact with him. "I was just here to, y'know, get some flowers."

"Flowers?" The boy asked, bringing the cigarette back up to his mouth briefly to take a drag and turned his head forwards to exhale, though he still glanced at Richard out of the corner of his eye. "What for? A pretty girl?"

"Uh, no, I just like flowers. Marigolds." Richard scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, glad that he swerved away from the idea of telling the boy that they were for his dead mother. That would've killed conversation quite quickly. Gazing downwards past the boy's feet to where the marigolds were, Richard assumed that the boy would catch on to what he wanted to do and move out of the way so that Richard could happily carry on with his business but even with the resumption of eye contact, the boy didn't move.

"Oh you do, do ya? Like putting them in your hair and skipping round the park?" The boy snickered in a teasing manner, flashing his teeth. Richard felt a flash of anger but it was somewhat subdued by the fascination of the boy's smile, no matter how malicious, and the fangs the boy seemed to possess. The boy seemed to notice Richard's hesitance to respond and nudged him gently with his shoulder. "C'mon, I was only playing. What's your name?"

"Richard." He replied quietly, glancing at his shoulder in a sort of silent awe that the boy was actually real and had touched him.

"Name's George." The boy replied with a lopsided smile that sent a fluttery feeling rushing through Richard's stomach. Richard nodded slightly, wary of the time and not being all to keen to continue the conversation regardless of how aesthetically pleasing George's face was. "It's nice here, don't you think? It's like it away from the rest of the world."

"Yeah," Richard nodded again, this time more enthusiastic. It was meant to be only his place but he supposed he could allow George to know about it-it was only one person. "It's nicer when it's sunny. Everywhere's nicer when it's sunny." George looked up to the sky for a moment, his eyes squinting, but Richard could only focus on the way George's hair curled under his sharp jawline.

"Suppose so." George looked back at Richard, looking sceptical. "You're awfully pale for a fella who loves the sun."

"Well, Liverpool isn't really known for being sunny, is it?" Richard shrugged, self consciously touching his face. He supposed he was quite pale anyway and the whole 'staying indoors aside from on a Sunday' thing didn't help with that either. George must've picked up on the slight air of insecurity because gently pulled Richard's fingers away from his face, keeping a hold of them and Richard could've sworn he was leaning in closer.

"No, it's not. You do pull off the look very well though."

"Uh, thanks."

"You've got a lot of rings, Richie." George commented casually as he changed the subject all of a sudden, his thumb brushing over the ring on Richard's little finger.

"Yeah, they're, um," Richard stuttered, freeing his hand by stepping backwards, flinching as his back hit the tree behind him. "Um." Richard blinked, watching George placed a hand by Richard's head, effectively trapping him between himself and the tree with their faces inches away from each other. A bright blush coloured Richard's cheeks, his eyes wide and surprised at what George was doing. He wasn't sure whether to call for help or just let George do his thing because in all honesty, Richard didn't think it was the worst thing in the world to be pinned against a tree by a tall, dark and handsome stranger. Nevertheless, he was mildly uncomfortable and he'd be damned if it didn't show, although George didn't seem to be fazed by it. George momentarily retracted his hand to take a drag from him cigarette, stubbing it out against the bark of the tree (which was something Richard was none too happy with) and playfully blew a little smoke against Richard's face. Richard coughed and turned his head to the side, not overly keen on the smoke. George chuckled and let his cigarette drop to the floor, stepping away from Richard, who suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

As he recovered from having George right up in his personal space, he noticed that George had turned towards the marigolds and leaned down to pick a few. For a moment, Richard rested his head back against the tree trunk, absently reaching up to touch where George's cigarette had stubbed against the tree with a soft frown. He hoped that it wouldn't be a regular occurrence because Richard wasn't sure if he could be so bold as to tell George to stop.

"Where are you taking these to then?" Richard snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of George's voice, his hand dropping back to his side. In his hand were a bunch of marigolds, standing out from his dark clothing and Richard thought it made him seem sweeter, less unnerving.

"The graveyard." Richard replied, extending a hand to take the flowers from him. But George didn't give them over. Instead, he began walking to the wall, stopping by the opening.

"You coming or what, Richie?" He glanced back at Richard with a grin, seemingly nonchalant about going to a graveyard.

Richard sighed and followed George past the wall and the trees. Paul was not going to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im cringing at my own writing bye


	5. Chapter 5

Richard was definitely one of them. It didn't hit George at first, what Richard could actually do, but now it was becoming more clear. Before he left that hidden corner of the park, he looked back at the tree that he had Richard up against a moment ago and noticed that the slight crater in the tree caused by his cigarette was no longer there. It was as if it never happened at all. And that was thanks to Richard.

George fiddled with the flowers in his hand, somewhat distracted with thinking about Richard's powers and getting him back to base. He knew he had caught Richard's eye (if the constant blushing was anything to go by), now all he needed to do was seal the deal and then bring Richard back. How hard could that be?

But George was off his game.

If Richard was a girl, George would already have him melting in his arms with a plethora of hickeys on his neck. He was so close to kissing Richard when he had him up against that tree-it would've been the perfect time to do it. But he just couldn't. A jolt of anxiety shot through him every time he thought of kissing him, of kissing a boy. Instinctively, a rush of thoughts of 'I'm not gay!' came flooding in his head as if he constantly had to convince himself this was only part of a mission.

George shouldn't have left the park, he knew that. It would've been much easier to flirt with Richard there but something twisted inside George every time he got close to him and he just panicked. George scolded himself for being such a failure already, but he still had a plan B to rely on. There was no way he was returning empty handed. Richard was going to the graveyard, which presumably meant he was going to be at least a little bit upset and in George's experience, sadness meant vulnerability and vulnerability meant an easy way right into people's hearts. He could be Richard's knight in shining armour. The thought sparked a bit of confidence within George and he found the words to break the silence that they were in.

"Why do you like flowers so much, Richie?" George figured that was a pretty safe place to start a conversation and maybe it would give him a better understanding of Richard's powers too. At the mention of flowers, Richard seemed to perk up a bit, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

"I don't know," Richard started off, though George could tell Richard did know from the small smile that made its way onto his face. "They don't do any harm to anyone and they're just so pretty and so delicate. I've always thought that if you look at beautiful things, you get into a beautiful mood."

"Well I'm certainly in a beautiful mood." George grinned coquettishly, staring at Richard. It took Richard a moment to clock on to what George was implying but it dawned on him soon enough and he blushed hard, ducking his head bashfully. George felt sort of smug watching Richard blush like a schoolgirl at the simplest of compliments, feeling a sense of power all of a sudden.

"You're too nice." Richard mumbled, gently knocking his hand against George's. Oddly enough, the usual wash of sorrow Richard felt on his way to the graveyard was replaced with something else. He wasn't sure if it was a good something else exactly, but it sure was different. Mildly uncomfortable but definitely bearable.

"I'm just being honest, cutie." George simpered. He nudged his hand back against Richard's, pausing for a second before thinking 'Fuck it, I'm just gonna hold his hand' and made his move.

"Nah you're a liar." Richard giggled quietly, his gaze shifting to their joined hands. He had to admit, his nerves were beginning to melt away and the air between himself and George wasn't as tense.

"Am not," George shot back with a teasing glint in his eye. "You're more beautiful than all the flowers in the world." George knew the line was cheesy but it did the trick alright. Richard wasn't sure if he could physically take blushing anymore without his face setting on fire. He really wasn't used to any kind of affection that wasn't platonic; he was never really the most sought after guy when it came to romance. Which just meant that the attention he was getting from George meant twice as much. However, as the gates of the graveyard came into view, Richard felt more and more apprehensive of showing up with a complete stranger holding his hand, especially with Paul around. His heart dropped and Richard abruptly tore his hand away from George's with a guilty expression.

"Um, I'll just take the flowers now." Richard held out his hand, eyes fixed on the floor so he couldn't see George's puzzled and startled expression. What he could see, though, was George's foot moving forward to lightly tap against his own. He didn't want to give in and let George accompany him no matter how much the idea appealed to him. It was one thing to walk with a handsome stranger and another thing to cry at a grave with one. Crying was much more comfortable in the presence of a close friend. "Please?" Richard wiggled his fingers, hesitant to look up. Eventually he felt the familiar feel of the flowers stems in his hand and let out a soft sigh, planning his goodbyes. But George had other ideas.

"I'm still coming in with you, though." He said firmly, hooking an arm around Richard's shoulders and began to stride into the graveyard with a kind of brash confidence, dragging Richard along with him.

Richard would have protested, but the comfort of George's body against his side persuaded him to keep his mouth shut. Clutched in his hands were the marigolds, still warm from George's hands. Perhaps it was the fact that he was holding the flowers again or maybe it was that George was holding him closely to his side, but Richard felt unmistakably safer and more secure, which baffled him a little. The bemusement didn't last long, as the swooping feeling of insecurity plagued Richard again when he was met with the sight of a very pissed off Paul, who had an eyebrow quirked scornfully.

"Richie?" Paul crossed his arms over his chest, more than a little unhappy. Richard almost forgot how protective Paul was and glanced up at George who seemed to sense it quite clearly as well. "Who's this?"

"I'm George." He said curtly with a steely gaze fixed on Paul. He kept his arm around Richard, as if he were challenging Paul.

"I asked Richie." Paul narrowed his eyes and offered a sardonic smile.

"Paul..." Richard sighed but he knew any attempt to argue with Paul would be futile, especially since they were both giving each other death glares. "Don't be mean to him."

"It's alright, I'll go." George said with a slight scowl on his face and let his arm drop back to his side, shooting a final glare at Paul before turning to leave. Once he'd disappeared beyond the gates, Richard found himself missing the arm around his shoulders and the aura of confidence George seemed to bring. The feeling quickly turned sour.

"Paul, for fuck's sake, you're always talking about how I should go out and meet people but when I do, you scare him off!" Richard snapped, brushing past him to lay the flowers on Elsie's grave.

"Richard," Paul frowned, his expression softening, "That guy looked like trouble, I know it. I could feel it."

"In case you haven't noticed, McCartney, I'm not a baby and I can look out for myself!" Richard's voice rose dangerously which surprised Paul.

"I know that! But you've been sulking for months, you forget to eat, you stay in bed all day, I'm just trying to help you!" Paul turned Richard to face him. Richard's fists were clenched tightly in frustration but he could sense the sincerity in Paul's voice and forced himself to calm down, just a little bit.

"Well, stop trying." Richard mumbled, Elsie's grave catching his eye again, bringing down his spirits even more. "I need some space."

Richard stormed past Paul, heading out of the graveyard. He craved the attention George gave him and he wanted that back, rapidly growing tired of Paul acting as if he couldn't take care of himself. He definitely could. And it wasn't as if Paul didn't have a life of his own either, so why did Richard have to justify everything he did without Paul? By the time Richard had made it out of Paul's view, he felt more upset than angry, worried that he might've scared George off for good. But then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Richie?" Richard spun round at the sound of George's voice, the corners of his lips twitching up.

"George, you're here..." Richard felt himself blush again for no reason at all besides George just being there. "I'm okay, I guess. Sorry about Paul."

"Oh s'alright." George shrugged, smiling casually. Faintly, he could hear Paul calling out Richard's name and George's grimace returned. "Richie, close your eyes."

"What?" Richard stated quizzically at George as Paul called out Richard's name again and they both could tell he was getting closer. "Why-"

"Just do it. Trust me." George said firmly, and Richard gave in, shutting his eyes.

In an instant, Richard felt George pull him into an embrace and the press of George's soft lips against his own. Richard's heart lurched against his chest and he swore the ground beneath his feet had fallen away, leaving him with only George to rely on for support. They kissed slowly, Richard's hands clutching onto George's jacket for dear life as a fluttery feeling swooped through his body, making his fingers tingle with nerves and excitement. All too soon, George pulled away and it took a moment for Richard to amass the strength to open his eyes.

"George..." Richard muttered breathlessly, his face a deep hue of red. "That-"

Richard paused. His eyes widened in alarm at what he saw over George's shoulder.

"Fuck!" Richard cried in disbelief, stumbled away from George, "How did we-? We were just outside the graveyard! Like two fucking seconds ago!"

Richard truly felt that he was losing his mind because they weren't outside the graveyard anymore, because over George's shoulder was a tree. Or more specifically, the tree from the park. And by George's feet were the marigolds, and grass that they were definitely not standing on a moment ago.

"Yeah," George chuckled wearily, looking weak and drained all of a sudden. "Surprise?"


	6. Chapter 6

Inside Richard's head, at that moment, there were a cacophony of deafening alarm bells and a million thoughts buzzing fervently. Perhaps Paul was right about George being trouble, because teleporting certainly wasn't normal, it wasn't _possible_. Except there was no mistaking the solid ground beneath his feet and the fact that he and George were in the park, when seconds ago they were by the graveyard. And on top of that, George had kissed him. Richard could still feel a tingle on his lips and the rushing fluttery feeling in his stomach and all those combined sensations made him feel...well, a little bit queasy.

"Fuck." Richard raised a hand to his head. " _Fuck."_

"You alright there?" George asked, his voice sounding strained and Richard had noticed that he (at some point or another during Richard's internal panic) had sunk to the floor at the foot of the tree, sort of hunched over and looking a little bit pained.

"Me? Pfft, yeah, fine." Richard sighed in disbelief, not really finding the proper words to describe how 'alright' he was and almost didn't register that George wasn't doing all that well either. "What about you?"

"Great." George laughed breathlessly, getting back to his feet with the help of the tree. He brushed his hands over his jacket with a soft sigh. "Bloody hell, I'm not used to going that far. You probably have a few questions about this, don't you?"

"One or two, yeah." Richard said in a squeaky voice, still struggling to fully grasp the situation.

"Shoot." George took a step closer to Richard with a breezy smile despite how obvious it was that Richard was mildly terrified and extremely confused. The smile dropped slightly, however, when Richard took a step back, leaving a substantial gap between the two.

"Firstly," Richard took a deep breath, his eyebrows still raised in disbelief. "What the fuck just happened, exactly? And also, how the fuck?"

George didn't seem at all fazed by these questions, and instead he seemed more amused by Richard's constant cursing, most likely because it was somewhat comical hearing those words from the 'shy-and-precious-flower-boy' Richard. It was kinda cute, George thought.

"Listen, I know it's a bit hard to believe but I think we're a bit beyond questioning impossible things now," George's voice then fell to a more serious tone. "There are people out there, only a few, who happen to have superhuman powers of sorts. It's different for each person, though. Like for example, I can teleport-" George disappeared, mid speech. Suddenly, Richard felt a hand tapping on his shoulder from behind. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised when he turned around to see George, but it still made him jump.

"Oh my God." Richard tentatively poked George's chest to test if he really was there, which made George laugh.

"I can only do short range though, so here to- say, America-is a bit of a fucking push, to say the least. I'd die from that, really. Even one side of town to the other is difficult." George shrugged, spontaneously disappearing for a moment, only to reappear with a dainty pink flower in his hand that Richard recognised from the other side of the park. "I can easily go all over this park, though." George beamed, evidently quite proud of his ability and Richard was more than a little fascinated by it as well.

"Wow..." Richard gawped, gratefully taking the flower when George offered it to him, his cheeks matching the colour of it.

"That's not all I can do." George smirked and Richard was a little wary of the flirtatious tone but he let him continue. George shut his eyes briefly as small iridescent fragments appeared floating in the air before they expanded into one another until George and Richard were both encased in a sort of shiny bubble. Richard stared curiously at the foreign floating substance, hesitantly bringing a hand up to give it a poke. A minuscule ripple spread through the bubble and Richard couldn't help but giggle.

"Georgie, this is so cool!" Richard grinned, the shock of the whole superpowers concept melting away into adoration. George raised an eyebrow at the nickname as the force field dissipated but made no comment on it. He didn't have the heart to, not while Richard seemed to excited. "I wish I had powers."

"Ah, but you do." George said, watching Richard intently for his reaction. He laughed quietly and his face twisted in confusion, shaking his head.

"What? No I don't." 

"You do." George insisted, nodding to the flower in Richard's hand. But Richard couldn't see anything special, it was just a flower. Sure, he liked flowers but as far as he was aware, he hadn't any powers to do with them.

"I don't get it." Richard said softly, holding the flower higher up to inspect it. George slowly reached forward, his eyes fixed on Richard the entire time, and snapped the flower off the stem. "George!" Richard cried, quickly pulling back the flower and held the stem protectively. Upon seeing the flower tumble to the floor, Richard frowned and tenderly brushed his fingers over the broken end of the stem. George didn't seem nearly as horrified as Richard over what he had done. In fact, much to Richard's confusion, he looked almost excited.

"Look." said George, eyes twinkling as he pointed to the flower.

To his surprise, a small bud had already formed within a matter of seconds, with tinges of pale pink colouring the closed petals. Richard let out a small gasp, briefly acknowledging George telling him to 'concentrate more' as he cupped a hand around the bud. He definitely felt something, perhaps a kind of power, coursing through his veins. It was like an amplified version of the background energy he'd always felt being outside with the plants. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Richard attempt to focus it all into his palms. He must've done something right because the petals began to unfold, and lean against Richard's hand as if the plant could feel his presence. His mouth was slightly agape with wonder while the flower continued to grow.

"Woah." Richard muttered incredulously.

"Hey, now listen to me," George gently placed a hand on Richard's shoulder to get his attention but he had a hard time tearing his gaze away from the flower. "Don't try this out too much when you don't know what you're doing, okay?"

"What do you mean? How could I ignore something like this?" Richard pouted.

"Just for one day, keep the experimentation to a minimum, okay?" George said, looking dead serious and Richard was close to whining and complaining but he supposed George knew what he was talking about, or at least, more than Richard did.

"Why? Could I _plant_ someone to death by accident?" Richard scoffed light heartedly but he swore he saw something flash in George's eyes.

"Just be safe, okay?" George carefully swept back a lock of Richard's hair behind his ear before glancing at his watch with a frown.

"Do you have to go now?" Richard asked in a small voice, his smile fading.

"Yeah," George sighed, "But I really want to see you again. How about tomorrow, for ice cream? At that place just near here?"

Richard felt himself blush at the offer, having half-forgotten about the feelings he had for George and the kiss. _Holy shit, the kiss,_ Richard thought.

"Yes, yeah," Richard nodded, a timid smile returning to his face. "I'd love that. A lot."

"Great." George stooped down to give Richard a quick peck on the lips and headed for the exit. "See you at 2, cutie."

Richard could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

* * *  
"Hey, lover boy, you're late for training." John sneered the minute George walked in. Instead of a usual snarky reply, George just quietly shrugged off his jacket.

"Where's the boy?" Mo asked, sitting on the bench beside where George threw his jacket. "Did you fuck it up, Harrison?" She asked cautiously in that tone that always made George feel like such a little kid.

"No." He retorted. "I'll have him by tomorrow. Today, it actually went...well." George thought back to the pretty much constant blushing by Richard and he thought he did a damn good job in causing those. Being with Richard wasn't the worst experience he'd ever had. When he held his hand, it was soft and Richard smelled like roses. If he was being honest, Richard's blue eyes were kinda pretty. Y'know, as far as eyes go. And even the kissing was sort of bearable in a way, because he could just imagine Richard was a girl. That Paul had been a bit of a pain in the arse though. George was sure things would've gone smoother without that git.

"Did ya kiss him?" Pete sniggered, making kissy faces at George. It was George's turn to blush madly.

"Shut up!" He frowned, heading over to the punching bags.

"Well? Did you?" Pete asked teasingly.

"...Maybe." George muttered out his reply, rolling his eyes when he heard the two other boys bursting out laughing. He swung a few punches at the bag, clenching his jaw in frustration. _I don't like boys_ , George thought angrily to himself. _Especially not stupid little Richard._


	7. Chapter 7

George was terrified of many things. He was terrified of snakes, of failure, of death, and, occasionally, of buttons (watching Coraline had really fucked him up) but those fears seemed to pale in comparison to the daunting figure of the ice cream parlour on the other side of the street. Or, more specifically, the boy waiting outside. But what bothered George most was the very reason he'd started to become scared in the first place. It wasn't his first time 'in the field', as they say, but this mission was far more important than any he had done before. George was the baby of the group; this was his chance to prove himself. And, as much as George hated to admit it, he was afraid of liking Richard. Whenever he'd held Richard's hand, there was a part of him thinking 'Yeah, I could get used to this.'

And as he found himself sitting opposite Richard, both with an ice cream in their hands, he thought the exact same thing.

The pastel walls of the ice cream parlour helped to melt away George's anxiety and so did the grin that Richard was trying (and failing) to hold back. The effect George had on Richard raised his confidence and perhaps that was what he wanted to get used to. Of course, George wasn't _gay_ or anything, but he started to find it fun to find ways to make Richard blush or giggle. He was simply making the best of a bad situation, or at least that's what George thought.

"Y'know, if I had to guess what powers you'd have, I totally wouldn't have guessed it was the whole teleporting and force field thing." Richard commented, taking a little lick of his strawberry ice cream. There was a small content smile on his face and he was practically glowing. George had noticed he had a flower in his hair and he also noticed that that particular flower really brought out his eyes.

"Yeah?" George smiled crookedly and he quickly glanced around to make sure what few people there were in there weren't listening in. "What powers would I have then?"

"Hm," Richard hummed thoughtfully and squinted his eyes in a playful scrutinising manner. "Like, vampire powers or something."

" _Vampire_ powers? It's cause of the teeth, isn't it?" George laughed but suddenly became more self conscious about his sharp canines. His finger lifted to ghost over the tip of one of them.

"Oh but they're very nice." Richard said quickly, offering a shy smile. The compliment gave George a bit of an ego boost and prompted him to try and make Richard blush again. Now that Richard was looking at his mouth, he took the opportunity to flirtatiously run his tongue over his lips. A foreign sense of pride rushed through him seeing Richard's cheeks go red and he smugly licked his ice cream.

"So," George said, a strange form of adrenaline kicking in. "You didn't fuck around with your powers too much, did you?" Under George's stare, it was almost impossible for Richard to lie. But somehow, he managed.

"No," he shrugged, trying his best to keep his demeanour as casual as possible. "I was tempted to, but I haven't tried anything. How long to I have to keep a lid on it anyway?"

"Not for long. Well, only if you take up my offer." George nibbled on the edge of his ice cream cone, leaning in with what looked to Richard like a wild glint in his eye.

"And what offer is that?" Richard asked softly, suddenly hyper aware of the five other people in the parlour with them. All of them seemed to be minding their own business, but Richard's paranoia happened to think otherwise.

"Listen," George reached his hand across the table, touching Richard's. "Richard, you're special. You really are. And out here, people might see that as a bad thing." George paused as he noticed something flash across Richard's features. It was gone instantly and he hesitated a moment before he continued. "There's a place for people like you, for people like _us._ Come with me, Richard- away, to a place where we can be ourselves."

"I...I don't understand." Richard mumbled, his eyes flickering from George's eyes to his hand holding his own. "Where?"

"It's a place where you can freely test your abilities. Where you can get better at it." George gently bit his lip, knowing he'd have to be delicate about this. He couldn't fuck it up now. He couldn't afford to. "Where you can be with me. Wouldn't you like that, cutie?"

Richard seemed at a loss for words, struggling to find anything but a few small sounds to say. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly and his eyes eventually locked with George's in a state of confusion.

"George, I don't-"

"I know, I know it's sudden. But you're one of a kind, Richard." George pleaded, gently stroking his thumb over the back of Richard's hand.

"But...But what about Paul? I can't just-" Richard sighed, looking lost.

"You can still come back to visit him from time to time." Lies.

"But-"

"Richard, this is your opportunity to do something great. Are you going to limit your life to this dismal city and Sunday visits to a graveyard?"

Richard tensed up. He could hear George talk about 'unimaginable power' and 'an extraordinary gift' but he couldn't focus on his words with the way his heart was constricting in his chest. He couldn't get the image of himself, old and grey, sitting by his mother's grave as he had been for months now, out of his head. There was him, the grave, a few flowers in the poor soil and Paul stood behind him, just as old and grey as he was, but still caring for Richard the same. But he was sick of it. He was 'sad little Richie' to Paul and he always would be. Unless he got the hell out of there.

"George." Richard cut him off. George fell quiet, staring intently at Richard with his lips parted slightly in anticipation. "George..." Richard repeated, his throat tight and without warning, he noticed the rush of power at his fingertips, as if it were all going to burst out. It seized his muscles and he became light headed under the pressure of his power and yet it felt oddly similar to how he felt when he saw his mother, lifeless and pale in bed. He was helpless then. He could do nothing. But now? Now could have power. He could have the grass and the trees under his thumb. He could have the flowers obey his every whim. He could escape from Paul constantly babying him. And he could have George.

"Richard...?"

"I'll go."


End file.
